


You want me to write... what?

by longhairshortfuse



Series: Carlos's Secret Diary [33]
Category: Jaws (Book), Jaws (Movies), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is Inhuman, M/M, Mild Gore, Mutation, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, human porn eventually, scientific observation, shark attack, shark porn, sharks are cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairshortfuse/pseuds/longhairshortfuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're gonna need a bigger ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Diary

**Author's Note:**

> Had to be done. I'm so sorry.
> 
> Adding this fic to Carlos's Secret Diary. It kind of fits in terms of what I want to write next, but not in structure.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil reads Carlos's diary. Carlos is not pleased.

I suppose it had to happen eventually. After I wrote my last diary entry, secure in the privacy that results from Cecil holing up in his study to write, I left my laptop open when I went downstairs to answer the doorbell. Normally I write things that are personal propped up in bed and use the dining table if I need to write lab reports or emails. I was listening out for the door because I was waiting in for a delivery of copper saucepans to replace the mismatched, battered old stainless steel ones we had collected between us. It was a surprise for Cecil too, I had put hooks in the kitchen ceiling by the wall so that the gleaming new pans could hang up on display.

I asked the delivery guy to bring the boxes to the back door because it opened into the kitchen. The delivery took some time. I hadn't realised that copper is such a restricted, regulated commodity here. There were forms to fill in, in triplicate, for each single item in the delivery and each item came in its own packaging. The delivery guy struggled so much with his regulation non-pen that I was tempted to offer to get an illegal writing implement, but I didn't want to get him into trouble. Poor guy was only doing his job and was apologetic about the lengthy delay. 

At last, forms complete, countersigned with a bloody thumbprint, I had seven boxes to unpack. I emptied each box, sorted the packaging for recycling, washed the new, shiny copper pans and hung them from the ceiling hooks, in order of diameter. They looked so good against the plain white walls that I was tempted just to keep using the old pots and pans for cooking. 

I headed back through the house. The door to Cecil's study was closed but I knocked gently and opened it a crack, only intending to interrupt him a little. He wasn't there. I thought maybe he had finished for now and headed upstairs quietly. He was lying face down on our bed, face almost hidden in his hands, peering out through his fingers at the screen. 

My diary. Fuck. He snapped the lid down as soon as he saw me. 

"Carlos! I wasn't... I didn't mean to..."  
"That was personal. Couldn't you tell? Do you have no boundaries at all?"  
"Yes, but... Ah..." he paused. "I only meant to read a little bit then stop. But then I read a little bit more and I just couldn't close it down. I'm sorry, Carlos."

I walked out of the room and went downstairs. That wasn't far enough. I went out of the house and walked as quickly as I could. I didn't stop until I was at the lab. Estrella reminded me that I had the day off but didn't question why I put a lab coat on and sat at my work bench with my head in my hands. My phone buzzed, ignored. It binged to tell me there was a text. I didn't look. Estrella put coffee in front of me, bad practice in a practical science environment, and walked over to discuss something with Gio. I picked up the coffee and went into the break room, emptied the mug down the sink, then (and I am not proud of this) threw the mug at the wall. There were a few other mugs by the sink. I threw things at the wall until I ran out of things to break. 

A few minutes of silence. Gio came in, opening the door slowly and peering round. He handed me a dustpan and brush then backed out again. I sighed and started to clear up the mess I had made. The door opened again. 

"Go away, Gio, leave me alone."  
"Carlos?"  
I jumped but did not turn around to face Cecil.  
"Are you very, very angry?"  
"No," I had worked off my anger. "I'm embarrassed. Humiliated. Leave me alone."  
"I brought you something." 

There was a sound of something slapping down on the table then the door opened and closed again. I breathed in and out slowly and turned around. Cecil was gone. I looked at the small hardback notebook on the table. The label on the front declared in beautiful calligraphy that this was Cecil's secret diary, keep out. I carried it out of the break room, into my office and locked it in a drawer, then I went out and bought a new set of crockery for the lab while I decided whether or not I wanted to read it. 

I decided that I didn't. I had nothing to gain from prying into his personal thoughts. If he wanted to show me something, tell me anything, that was up to him, but I was not going to read his diary. I collected Cecil's diary and read my texts. There were three apologising and saying call me followed by one saying "read today". I opened Cecil's diary at the last page. It said:

_Today I made a mistake. I read Carlos's diary and he's mad at me. I deserve that and I'd do anything to go back and not do what I did. It was weak of me, but when I read the first entry about the day we met I had to know more. I have loved Carlos from that day and I thought he hadn't noticed me. How painful that was! To find out that I was wrong was intoxicating, terrifying and beautiful. I hope that Carlos will forgive me, I love him. If anything, reading about what he perceives as his weaknesses has made me love him more than ever. What can I do to get him to come back, forgive me? To come home?_  


I could not remain angry. I walked back home thinking but unable to come up with anything to say. Cecil was in his study, just sitting at his desk. I handed back his diary.  
"I didn't read it," I said, "except the last page like you said. If you really want me to read any of it then sit with me and show me what you want me to see."  
He took the notebook from my hand and flicked through it, found a page and we sat together on the sofa. It was a description of a day where the old station management had given Cecil a hard time at the end of his broadcast and he had gone home frazzled to think about, no... fantasise about me being there to look after him. It was sweet and sexy and the science was all wrong but that didn't matter as much as I thought it would. I put an arm around his shoulder and kissed him.

"Forgiven?"  
"Not quite," I replied. "There will be a penance."  
"O-oh?"  
"When I think of something suitable." I thought for a moment. "Okay, you know how you like to write fic when you're bored or can't think of what to write for your own work?" He nodded. "And you know how I _really_ like creature features?" He nodded again, slowly.  
"You want me to write you a fic?"  
"Uh-huh."  
"About a monster film?"  
"Mm-hmm."  
" 'ship?"  
"Hell yes, anything you want. With science, of course."  
"It might take a while. You cooking tonight with those new shiny pans or just using the old ones? Doesn't matter, make something that takes at least an hour, two would be better if you want the science to be... neat."

I left him to it and spent some time cross referencing our recipe collection with the contents of the kitchen cupboards before giving up and ordering pizza.


	2. Shark Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaws slashfic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaws slashfic, WTNV and Jaws crossover. How could I possibly resist?  
> Someone on Tumblr suggested swapping "what the Fink" for "what the fuck". If it was you, ^_^
> 
> Anyway, I have seen the film and read the book, but not recently and this probably mixes them up a bit.

The great white shark was hungry. Normally it would not dare to be so close to shore, but the lack of its preferred prey had driven it to consider alternatives. Anything. It could see movement above against the brightness. It circled underwater, once, twice, oriented itself for attack, accelerated and breached the surface with cruel teeth clenched around something soft and yielding that spilled hot blood freely into its throat. It carried its meal back to the safety of the depths, oblivious to the clamour from the shore. It would return.

Brody was furious. Another death and still that moron of a mayor, Vaughan, refused to close the beaches. No body had been found, eye witnesses were unreliable, no real evidence that it was a shark he said. The kid likely drowned and got swept out by the tide. Quint and Hooper had been bickering over Quint's lack of regard for conservation. Brody had to admit that Quint had a point, kill this predator before it kills again. Who cares under these circumstances if a couple of specimens of endangered species end up as chum. Besides, Hooper was an asshole. Brody had requested that Vaughan finance another marine scientist to joint the team and Vaughan agreed just to shut him up. The new guy was due to arrive today.

Brody drove to the local airport to meet him. He could afford the time, the shark had eaten and would most likely leave Amity alone until it was hungry again. He had made a card with the scientist's name and held it up as holidaymakers trickled through into arrivals. A man strolled through the double doors, looking a little lost but incredibly handsome. Even Brody looked twice. Ellen? Hooper was welcome to her if she wanted to go. The man looked around, shook out his cascade of dark curls and walked over to Brody. He stuck out his right hand.

"I'm Carlos. I deduce that you must be Brody." Brody shook the man's hand, making only brief eye contact. "I am an expert in the behaviour of the great white shark, as far as one could be called an expert in the habits of such an elusive, enigmatic creature." Carlos smiled as he spoke, revealing a set of perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. Brody felt a tremor in the pit of his stomach.

"You sound like you _admire_ them," Brody stated.  
"Indeed, as an apex predator the great white is optimally adapted to its environment. It can reach speeds up to thirty five miles per hour, it can breach from below to capture its prey, meaning that the inferior prey animal has little chance of seeing it until too late. It can survive in oceans from temperate to tropical regions across the globe. It will mate only after feeding to ensure enough sustenance for a developing egg to hatch inside it and grow to term over almost a year. Individuals have been estimated to live for over seventy years and the biggest specimens can reach eight metres long. Their teeth continue to develop throughout their entire life. They are impressive creatures, Brody, I do admire them." The scientist waved his strong arms, sketching in the air as he spoke and, had he not been so recently acquainted with the _inferior prey animal_ , Brody would have been dragged along by his infectious enthusiasm. As it was, he felt fury.

They were outside the airport, outside Brody's car. Brody was shouting.  
"Inferior prey animal? You asshole! We're talking PEOPLE you asshole. Real people with families and friends who died in TERROR! What right do you have to talk as if this killer is worth admiration?" Quieter now, people were staring. "What the fink do you tell people who are waiting to find out if their missing loved ones survived?" Brody closed his eyes and held on to the car door. Carlos stared at him, lost for words.

"I had no idea you had a great white that preyed on humans," he said. "I'm sorry. That is very unusual, the prey of the great white is normally seals."  
"Get in."  
Brody drove them to Amity in an uncomfortable silence. He had not been fair to the newcomer. He hadn't been briefed. Carlos bit his lower lip, unsure of how to break the silence. Brody had made quite an impression on him with his passionate speech against the shark. He stole a glance at Brody's profile. He tried science.  
"Is it a single great white or is there a group?"  
"Always the same one. Big."  
"What equipment do you have?"  
Brody and Carlos discussed the current state of the hunt until they reached Amity. Brody took Carlos to meet Quint and Hooper. Quint and Hooper were arguing as usual. Hooper had brought a shark cage and Quint would not allow it on board the _Orca_. Hooper argued that he could harpoon the shark from the safety of the cage. Quint argued that his boat was not big enough to carry the cage. Carlos, lovely Carlos, joined in with a third argument that neither Quint the hunter not Hooper the asshole had considered.  
"How big is the great white?"  
Quint answered, "about twenty five feet long."  
"Will the shark cage be strong enough?"  
Hooper snorted. "Of course it will. I've used it to study great whites before. It's safe."  
Carlos, with his superior knowledge, looked at Hooper and raised one finely arched eyebrow. "How confident are you that you will harpoon the shark before it damages the cage?"  
"Certain, one hundred percent," Hooper snapped and walked away. Quint resumed preparing the _Orca_ for its next voyage.  
Carlos spoke so that Brody could just hear, "Everything is some level of probable. Nothing is ever certain." Brody sighed.  
"Come on, we're sailing in the morning. You can drop your bag at your lodgings then I'll buy you a drink."

Carlos was glad of the company. Brody did not want to go home since his last argument with Ellen over his suspicions about Hooper. One drink became two, then three. Before the bar closed, they were drunk enough to have shared a little more information about themselves than they would have done sober. Brody and Carlos walked a strange kind of Brownian motion back to Carlos's lodging, pausing at the door for just a moment too long. 

"Night. Eight sharp." Brody shuffled off home. 

Carlos went inside. The room was clean but basic. He opened his bag and removed his most important possession: a small case containing four hypodermic syringes and a vial of clear liquid. As always, he considered not taking the shot. Reveal his true, glorious, terrifying nature, untempered by medical science. He could feel it, feel the pull of the salt water on his unique genetic composition, hear the ocean, sense the hunger of the great white. It would kill again tomorrow if it could. It had to. He prepared a dose, capped the hypodermic again and put it on the table ready for morning. Carlos slept badly, plagued by dreams of gliding through the ocean with an insatiable hunger and ferocity.

At eight-thirty, the four men were on the _Orca_ and watching for signs of shark activity. Quint was right, they did need a bigger boat as the shark cage impeded their movement around the small deck. Quint prepared the harpoon. Brody threw chum overboard, wishing it was Hooper in the bucket. Hooper double checked his scuba gear and Carlos scanned the water for telltale shadows. Carlos had woken late with a pounding headache, dressed quickly and left his lodging without stopping for breakfast. The stench of the chum made him grateful he had nothing in his stomach. 

Brody turned to watch Carlos for a moment. He was beautiful even with a raging hangover. The substantial stubble only served to enhance his strong jawline and the red checked shirt over his white teeshirt contrasted well with his dark skin. Brody speculated on what it would be like to be swept up in those powerful arms. Carlos met his gaze for a fraction of a second. Brody shook himself and returned to his task.

Beautiful Carlos gave a shout and pointed as a fin broke the water surface. The little boat lurched as Hooper started to move the shark cage into position. Brody watched in horror, his perception of time warped as if in slow motion, as the gorgeous scientist tumbled overboard and was gone. 

Underwater, Carlos remembered that he had not used the chromosome stabilisation serum that morning. He saw the great white, beautiful and graceful, dangerous and deadly. He knew that he was safe from attack because the great white would only recognise him as another shark. As long as it wasn't mating season he would be safe. He struggled out of his clothing. He was not breathing, there was no need. He felt cool water wash over his newly developed gills and out through openings on the sides of his chest. He became gradually aware of the patterns of electromagnetic fields in the water and used them to orient himself and find which way was out to sea. HIs skin was changing, streamlined to reduce hydrodynamic drag. His bone structure developing, his face contorting and re-adapting to its new function. His teeth were a different kind of perfect now. Perfectly adapted for holding and shearing lesser creatures. His beautiful dark eyes, the darkest possible. 

Carlos sensed the other shark's presence, swimming further out to sea, and headed gracefully towards it.


	3. Penance

I put down the script and looked at Cecil.  
"Really? Were you so annoyed that I ate half of your share of the pizza?"  
He said I'd make a really handsome shark. I rolled my eyes and continued reading.


	4. Shark Porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... just what do two lonely sharks get up to?

Carlos adapted well to his lamniform transformation despite scientific doubts. Where, he wondered, did all the extra mass come from? How did _homo sapiens_ of mass around 80kg become _carcharodon carcharias_ of mass... Carlos flexed his powerful tail and estimated his mass based on the likely force exerted against the water and the acceleration produced as he powered through the ocean depth... around 1200kg? He was big, muscular, an impressive specimen. He could still remember being human. He remembered about mass and energy, that equation that everybody knows and few understand. 

He could still sense the other fish ahead of him, knew that he was closing in. Carlos recognised that he was in a strange intermediate world between human and shark. Thoughts that were pure great white broke through. Hungry. Feed. Blood. Blood in the water. He could sense it even before he recognised what the source was. Faster now, faster still, Carlos sped towards the source of that dilute but intoxicating chemical signature in the water. There was the other shark above him, trailing a stream of blood from the sea lion carcass. Further above, thrashing in the water from an injured mammal. Instinct took over. Carlos the shark circled, triangulated and struck, killing his damaged prey outright. He carried the limp corpse down deeper, ripping and swallowing with each toss of his head.

His human part expected to be disgusted by his action but it was not. The human inside shark-Carlos knew that nature demands death so that life can continue. The other shark was circling him, sensing his size and power, Carlos felt its insecurity and knew he was in danger. Great white hierarchy held female dominant over male and larger dominant over smaller. Carlos sensed the other to be the most dangerous combination: both female and large. She continued to circle. Carlos marked time, waiting for her to act. He swam in small circles occasionally diving deeper or drifting up towards the brightness, confident in his camouflage against the human predators he knew would be looking for them. From above his deep grey back made him almost invisible against the murky depths. From below his white belly merged with the bright sunlight refracted and rippling at the ocean surface.

Carlos was careful to make no threatening moves. Let her decide what to do next. He considered the possibilities. She could swim away, uninterested if she detected no threat. She might investigate more closely, perhaps they would form a social clan teamed up against the assholes on the boat. Perhaps they would swim up and sort out dominance nonviolently through spy-hopping and tail slapping, which Carlos had never done (with a girl shark, anyway) or some other rough-and-tumble kind of play test of strength. Or perhaps... Carlos realised he had trailed a female shark who had eaten well for the past weeks and might be ready to... No. Please not that. Carlos wondered if sharks could blush. He thought about his new anatomy, about how he relished the new muscular, streamlined body shape, how he loved the feel of the cool water against his new skin, how his fins stabilised his rolling and pitching and yawing, allowed him to change direction at speed with barely a twitch. He had, unusually, not spent any time at all thinking about his new set of reproductive organs. 

The other shark was circling closer now, reassured by Carlos's careful avoidance of aggression. He could see her now and she was spectacular up close. She had been impressive from a distance but at close range Carlos could appreciate the fine detail of her terrible grin, the stare from jet black eyes that betrayed no emotion, the curve of her conical snout that tapered to an almost impossible angle, the symmetry of her tail fin. She was scarred, clearly had been challenged in the past, yet she was here, a survivor of a brutal life. A life dictated by nature.

She barged his side. Carlos shot forwards in surprise at the physical contact. She rammed him again, harder. Carlos, the perfect gentleman, glided a little further away. This action served to give the other shark space to gain speed before she slammed into his side again. Carlos had not been a shark for long enough to be able to interpret the girl-shark's intentions. Was this just roughhousing to assert dominance? He watched her square up again and was ready for the next round. At the last moment, Carlos dived deeper, avoiding the blow. She followed. 

Carlos put up with the display of dominance for a few more side-swipes. He realised that he was not in physical danger. If the other shark wanted him hurt or dead, he reasoned, those terrifying rows of serrated teeth would have been used by now. He deduced that she wanted to play. He wondered how long she had been roaming the seas alone. He swam a couple of circuits of the girl-shark, who was sizing him up for another pass, then swam past quickly and close, grazing his rubbery skin along hers. For a moment, he thought he felt it, felt her electric desire. She turned and followed him, catching up, rubbing slowly along his side again as she overtook. 

Girl-shark or boy-shark. Carlos no longer cared. He became aware, perhaps shark instinct breaking past the human barrier again, of just how his new anatomy functioned. He slowed down and turned to match speed with the other shark. She twisted her body around his, making him shiver, his lateral line picking up the subtle electromagnetic field generated by her heartbeat and pulsing blood. It was too much. They swam parallel, touching. He gained purchase on her streamlined body, anchoring into her specially adapted thick skin with his teeth. His clappers seemed to have a life of their own and found the girl-shark's oviduct with ease. Within time that might have been seconds or minutes, sperm washed by seawater left his body and entered hers. Carlos withdrew the clappers and released his grip.

She circled him again, slowly this time. Carlos wondered what shark etiquette demanded they do next. The girl-shark twisted to make brief eye-contact and he heard a voice somewhere deep within his shark-brain. 

"Hello handsome! My name is Cecilia. Who the fuck are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon Carlos asked for a fic with a 'ship. There is no way that Headcanon Cecil was ever going to write about Carlos with another human, right?
> 
> I might not be quite finished with this.
> 
> Just, sorry. That's all.


	5. Soooo, forgiven?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, mainly porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a reference to my "Carlos's Secret Diary" fic series. There is some bad poetry in there. I have a photo of the mineral Carlos mentions, just need to figure out how to post it. For now it is in my Tumblr (I'm longhairshortfuse there too, come and say hi).

Cecil watched me from the opposite end of the sofa for the whole time I read. It was very distracting. When I put the notebook down again, he asked if I liked it.

“Nice use of shark behavioural science, mostly,” I said, “but I don’t think genetic mutations really work like that.”

“No? But we’ve watched all the X-Men movies. If it’s scientific enough for Marvel then it’s scientific enough for my fic.” 

I knew better than to argue and I had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to wind me up deliberately. The last time we watched an X-Men movie together Cecil banned me from speaking altogether after the fourth time I shouted at the screen to correct their sloppy science and blatant disregard for the evolutionary process and several branches of materials science. Wolverine would have to be impossibly built and would have extremely compromised mobility. When I flouted his rule of silence, he put both of his hands over my mouth, leaned in close and said he would gag me if I didn’t stop spoiling the film. The look on his face suggested this was more promise than threat and I wondered if he was disappointed that, with some difficulty, I stayed quiet until the credits. 

His mouth twitched. “Did you like the ‘ship? I don’t usually ‘ship real people in my fic. It feels creepy.”

I looked at him for a moment then replied, “You turned me into a shark. And it was a she!”

“It was essential for the plot. I don’t know if sharks mate for any reason other than procreation. And I wasn’t going to write about my favourite scientist having a relationship with anyone else. I thought about pairing ‘Sharklos’ with Brody but I started to get jealous so I stopped in case I decided I had to kill him off. In any case, I thought you liked sharks, we watched all the _Jaws_ movies last month and _Deep Blue Sea_ , you really liked that bit where the scientist gets…”

I leaned over to kiss him properly and he pulled me into a hug. I said, “It just wasn’t what I thought you’d write. But yeah, I like it. You are forgiven. You would make an awesome girlshark but I prefer you the way you are.” We lay together on the large sofa, notebook forgotten for now. 

I asked how much of my diary he had read. 

“I only got as far as our first date.” Shit, more than a year’s worth of my filthy fantasies, relationship history and petty concerns.

“I guess you got to find out a few things about me then.” He frowned, smiled, nodded then shook his head slightly.

“Oh nothing that shocked me," a pause, and a head shake, “much. It explained why you were so reticent about showing your feelings. I liked finding out that all those times my stomach was flipping so was yours. You surprised me though, I mean I had no idea you could write a sonnet, and your science team gave you really bad advice in their poem. If you had done as they suggested I would probably have imploded on the spot.” He was not even trying to hide his grin. “I mean, you know I like a little more… persuasion than that.”

I sat up, leaned forwards and put my face in my hands, shook my head. Barely a whisper, “Oh no. No.” I had completely forgotten about poetry week. Cecil shifted to sit behind me, slipped his arms around my chest, rested his cheek on the back of my shoulder and hugged me from behind. 

“Please don’t be embarrassed. I was flattered.” He moved one hand to sweep my hair aside and kissed the back of my neck. I leaned back onto him so that we sprawled on the sofa, Cecil lying back, me reclining with my head on his chest and his knees either side of my hips.

"How much of this are you going to broadcast?" I needed to know 

"Virtually nothing," Cecil reassured me. "Maybe just that I read your diary and you got mad at me, but you forgave me. I promise not to talk about anything specific I read. Can I say that you fell in love with me too?" I shook my head. "Can I tell my listeners that you wrote poems for me?" I shook my head even harder. "Okay, can I tell everyone that you had some hot nsfw fantasies?" 

"No way!" I turned round to see him choking back laughter. I put a hand over his mouth, kissed the end of his nose and said, "you will say nothing about my diary at all." He bit my hand then pulled me into a kiss as I whipped my hand away. 

"O-o-kay," he sighed. "I'll have to settle for just reporting the news as I understand it."

"My diary is not news. Understand that?" 

"Mmm-hmmf," hummed through another kiss.

We lay sprawled together on the sofa for a little while longer, not needing to speak. Closeness for me is seductive, warm contact with a comfortable silence and no pressure or expectation. I asked if he was tired, not wanting to fall asleep downstairs. Cecil said no, not really. I asked about the "persuasion" he had mentioned earlier when joking about the poem the postgrads wrote for me. He suggested I should use scientific methods to find out.

I gently licked the tip of his ear and bit his earlobe, checked his reaction. He rubbed his ear. "Not that then." I concluded. He shook his head. I traced along one eyebrow with a finger then stroked the back of my fingers down his cheek. "Tick, now where is my clipboard?" I pretended to look for it, fishing under the sofa with one hand. To my surprise, I found it there alongside a neatly folded labcoat. Cecil wore a look of carefully prepared innocence. "I see," I said in my best scientific voice, as if one of the team had just handed me a particularly interesting mineral, perhaps the very slightly birefringent, monoclinic Mg2Mg5Si8O22(OH)2. I got up, put my lab coat and glasses on and peered over the top of the frame at Cecil, who was watching me and suppressing a giggle. 

"Science gear, tick." I knelt by the sofa, moved in closer and almost whispered, "I hear you're _very_ into science these days." I stroked his face again, letting my hand trail down the side of his neck. I balanced the clipboard on his stomach, leant in and kissed the side of his neck. Cecil stretched his head back so that I could reach his throat. I moved across his throat, down to his collarbones and nuzzled inside his shirt, listening to the noises he made. "Neck and throat, tick," I pretended to write on the clipboard.

"Is the scientific specimen comfortable or would he like to move upstairs?" Cecil said he was comfortable. I closed the curtains. "Some experiments work better in the dark." I knelt by his side again, moved the clipboard out of the way and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, pulling at each button until it popped free of its buttonhole. "Ah, I forgot about preserving the modesty of the subject of scientific interest." I began to button Cecil's shirt again but he pushed my hands away. "It appears that his particular specimen lacks modesty for the moment." I flapped his shirt open and stroked over his ribcage with both hands, pausing to flick a gentle finger over each nipple. He whimpered a little and squirmed. "To test reliability and reproducibility, some experiments have to be repeated, occasionally in a modified form." I stroked his nipples again, feeling their new prominence, then leaned over and circled each one with my tongue as Cecil wriggled and whimpered again. "Nipples, tick." 

I continued down, trailing my tongue from the base of his sternum to his navel. I glanced at the obvious bulge and asked, "Is my scientific study causing discomfort? Should I stop?" He said no and repeated it a few times just to be sure. "Continuing my observations, I notice that this subject's clothing is restrictive and perhaps, for science of course, ought to be removed completely. I ignored his waistband and unfastened his cuffs, pulling him up just enough to remove his shirt. I kissed the inside of his nearest elbow and traced my fingers then my tongue over the crease of his wrist. "A true scientific discovery," I said in response to hearing Cecil catch his breath, "Elbows no, wrists, tick." I stroked my fingers back up his arms, down his chest to his stomach and slid them just under his waistband. But only for a few seconds. I moved my hands, stroked down his thighs and shins to his feet where I removed his socks, stifling a giggle at his pained expression and gasped complaint. I massaged the sole of each foot in turn and stroked a finger down the top of each toe before carefully biting one by one. "This scientists confirms that the test subject still likes foot-play."

I worked my way back up to Cecil's waistband and unfastened the button and zipper. I hooked my fingers into the sides of his waistband and he lifted his hips enough for me to remove the rest of his clothing carefully. I continued my "study" of Cecil, stroking along his iliac crests, drawing my fingers down to the soft crease where hip became thigh. I moved Cecil's nearest leg so that his foot was on the floor and kissed from his hip to his thigh then along the crease to where his scrotum lay. I dragged my teeth then my tongue softly across the wrinkled skin and heard the whimpering get louder. I stopped and sat up, reached for the clipboard and said, "Bollocks, tick I guess." The noise that came from Cecil was somewhere between a snort and a plea. 

"This scientist has analysed the anterior surfaces of the specimen and now requires that the subject be placed prone rather than supine to allow a thorough investigation of all posterior sites of special scientific interest." Cecil found some words. "Wha...?" Almost. I told him to turn over. He groaned, muttered something about revenge but complied. I started from his ankles, stroking up his calf muscles then hamstrings, saying the muscle names out loud as I passed over them. "Gastrocnemius. Soleus is just under here. Popliteus. Biceps femoris. Semitendonosis. Semimembranosis." I worked gently up to the crease of his buttocks and paused. "Major muscle groups in legs, no reaction." I circled both hands slowly on his buttocks. "Gluteals, tick." I slid one finger between his buttocks and touched his anus. He twitched. I did it again, drawing a little circle around the muscle. He twitched and moaned. By this time I was in some discomfort myself and trying to hide it.

"Once started, a proper scientific study should be completed to its final stage as planned. It would be very unscientific to miss out observations and come too quickly to an unsatisfactory conclusion." I hoped my voice accented the words correctly. Cecil grabbed a sofa cushion and buried his face in it, groaning. I walked my fingers up his back to the area between his shoulder blades that I knew gave him goosebumps. He hunched his shoulders forwards into the cushion, arching out the back of his shoulders. I stroked his back lightly whilst nibbling up to the back of his neck. "Area of rhomboids, tick. Back of neck, tick." 

"There only remains one piece of the scientific puzzle that is Cecil," I said, "and that is his effect on a certain lucky scientist. Do. Not. Move." I removed my clothing (and my glasses) and put my lab coat back on. 

A muffled voice. "Pockets." I put my hands in my lab coat pockets and found condoms and lube. I asked Cecil how long he had been thinking about playing this game but he simply shrugged, face still buried in the cushion. I put on a condom and guided Cecil to move so that he was kneeling on the floor in front of me, head and shoulders supported by the sofa. I shuffled forwards so that my knees were between his legs, pushing them apart a little further. I stroked his back and buttocks again with one hand, fiddled with the cap on the lube with the other. I dribbled it out at his coccyx, making him jump at the sudden cold. I entered him slowly with two fingers. He moved, trying to rock back on to me. "Hey, this is my scientific experiment, the subject needs to stay still for now," as I guided him forwards again. I judged when I thought he couldn't stand much more and removed my fingers slowly. I pulled Cecil back so that he sat on my hips as I entered him. I kept one arm around his waist to prevent him from moving too much and with the other hand stroked his scrotum and clasped his erection. 

"Okay," I said, trying to sound normal, "the next experiment is to see how well the scientific subject can control his movements while the scientist continues to fuck him senseless." Cecil made a gloriously incoherent noise as I lifted my hips and braced my arms against the sofa. I began to rock against him slowly, feeling a tight warm grip as my hand stroked up and down in time with my hip motion. I moved harder and faster, lost in the moment, until Cecil came with a cry that echoed the muscle spasms that brought me over the same edge. 

Cecil remained kneeling, leaning on the sofa. I moved sideways to sit beside him. We watched each other's breathing recover and kissed with passion. 

"Next time," said Cecil, "I get to play the scientist and you," he pointed at my chest, "are going to be made to _wait_ for it." 

That sounded neat.


End file.
